


Sometimes

by miss_maraudeur



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-24 14:17:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2584367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_maraudeur/pseuds/miss_maraudeur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's some time after Laura's fight with Danny and Laura is having a hard time coping. She needs a bit of comfort and finds it in an unlikely source.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes

**Slight mention of LauraXDanny, but definitely a Hollstein story.**

.

.

Sometimes, Laura forgets Carmilla isn't exactly human and it's problematic.

 

Sometimes, Carmilla's sarcasm and cynicism is actually funny and it makes her laugh. Sometimes, Carmilla will smile and her eyes will twinkle. Sometimes, Carmilla will do little things, like bring her a cocoa or buy a new box of cookies when hers is almost empty. Sometimes, she'll look distracted and pensive. Sometimes, she'll look lonely and sad. It's all too human, it's entirely too problematic, because the more Carmilla feels like a human, the more Laura forgets that she isn't.

 

But it's hard not to forget. And what Laura soon finds out is that it's hard not to forget everything when Carmilla shows her softer, more caring side- that side the vampire insists doesn't exist.

 

Like a few days after her falling out with Danny. Laura comes back to her dorm room after an English Lit class and she's just feeling all sorts of horrible. Danny kept sending her wounded puppy glances throughout the class and Laura almost wanted to forget the whole debacle because she really never ever wanted to be the cause of such pain on the beautiful redhead's face, but she can't. She can't because she meant it too much. It's not because she needs to prove a point though. It's more than that. So she doesn't talk to Danny, doesn't forget the whole thing, but it doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.

 

When she walks to her dorm, she has every intention of crumbling on top of her bed and listen to the sad music playlist she's made to alleviate the pain if only a little just like she's been doing for a few days now. When she opens the door though, her plans somehow change. It's not that suddenly she doesn't want to wallow in heart shattering music, she still does, but suddenly she doesn't have to put it on. The minute she opens the door, she realises there's already soft music playing.

 

She walks further into the room and drops her bag on the floor. Her eyes scan the place automatically and she notices without really thinking about it that Carmilla is absent. She turns to the bathroom door, but when she sees it opened she must conclude that Carmilla simply isn't there.

 

"So why is there music?" She wonders.

 

Laura closes the door behind her and walks towards the source of the noise. At first, she thinks it's her computer, because that's where she usually plays her music, but it doesn't take much time for her to figure out that, this time, the source is different. She looks around the room and finds it soon after. It's right there, on Carmilla's cluster-filled desk, a ridiculously beat-up radio. Laura squints as she walks towards it, the music growing louder as she does. She stops to look at the object for a few moments. It intrigues her that she's never seen the object before, yet it somehow fits into the decor like it was always there.

 

Laura's eyebrows rise in surprise when she realises that what's playing isn't even a CD, but a honest to god cassette. She hasn't seen those in forever. She bites her bottom lip and stares at the radio and when the song switches to some title that's just as soft and comforting as the one before, it's stronger than her, she reaches forward and stops it.

 

She opens the player and her breath catches in her throat when she sees one single word scribbled on the tape.

 

_Laura_

 

It's all it says, but from just that one word, the small girl knows that it's Carmilla's who's written it. Laura's heart picks up a bit faster after that and she shuts the player and presses play. She lets the music take her over and only seconds later, it's like her heart has been filled with warmth. She walks towards her bed and she's almost reached it when something else catches her off guard.

 

She's so surprised that she actually gasps a little out loud. She's certain that if she'd been holding her bag still she'd have dropped it. She lifts a hand to her mouth, her heart beating even faster now. Still, she closes her eyes and breathes in deeply.

 

There's no mistaking the smell that hit her nostrils, it's lavender. Laura's eyes gloss over with tears and she looks around herself until she spots a candle on her work desk. She walks closer and sees that her Tardis mug that's just next to it is filled with cocoa. She shakes her head in disbelief as she takes the still warm mug and inhales again, the smell of lavender invading all her senses.

 

Lavender, it's always been her smell. Well, not exactly always, but it's always been _hers_ , her mother's and that's precisely why it became Laura's eventually. She was 7 when her mother died from cancer and by then, the woman had barely ever wore perfume anymore. But before the worst part came, before the illness made her mother so weak that she couldn't stand something as simple as the strong smell of lavender, it had been hers. So the aroma has always reminded Laura of her mother and in the years that followed it had become a sort of habit of hers to seek out the scent when she was feeling particularly lonely or sad.

 

So to smell lavender now, when she's had a horrible day... it's more than Laura could have ever expected. It's like being surrounded by her mother, being back in the woman's arms, hugged, comforted, loved. It's something Laura hasn't felt in ages and it makes her tear up more than ever.

 

She breathes in and a tear falls down on her cheek. She wipes it quickly and sniffles. She's not sad, not exactly. She's more shocked. This, this entire setting, it's too much for words. She can't even form a coherent thought around it. It doesn't help that she _knows_ that it all comes from Carmilla. If anything, it confuses Laura more than she'd like to admit.

 

Because honestly, how does Carmilla even _know_ about the lavender? The cocoa has become a more regular occurrence between them so she gets it. The music, she can understand too. She's been listening to the same playlist for days now so it's obvious that Carmilla has noticed. But the lavender?

 

Laura wracks her brain, tries to figure how her usually snarky roommate could have known. It makes no sense at all that she did. For a frightful second, Laura wonders if Carmilla can read her mind, but she dismisses the thought quickly. She'd know if Carmilla had that power. She's not certain exactly _how_ she would, but she _knows_ she would.

 

Honestly, she can't figure it out. The only time she's even ever mentioned her mother was one afternoon to Danny. The second she remembers that day though, it clicks. As she remembers sitting on her bed with Danny and talking about her mother and the scent of lavender, she remembers something else. She remembers her grumpy roommate sitting in the background seemingly occupied with reading some philosophy essay. She'd been so busy studying the colour of Danny's eyes at the time, the way they'd shined with compassion, studying her quirked lips and revelling in the feel of the girl's hand on hers that she had barely noticed Carmilla at all. She'd certainly never thought the darker haired girl had been listening. But apparently she had.

 

Because if Laura knows anything about Carmilla- and she's come to get to know her quite a bit in the last few weeks- it's that she doesn't do coincidences. If their room smells like lavender at this very moment, it's because Carmilla knew it would make her feel safe and cared for. And in that moment, Laura feels exactly like that, like she's being cared for in the most gentle of ways. It's just a complete surprise that such gentleness comes from Carmilla of all people.

 

Laura walks towards her bed, her cocoa in her hands. She settles on top of it and just drinks for a while, her focus on the beautiful music Carmilla's chosen for her as she's enveloped by her favorite scent.

 

Laura has no idea how long she just sits there and listen. She only knows that she gets up at one point to turn the cassette on its other side and continues to listen. When that side is also done, she puts the tape back and plays it again. She waits for Carmilla to return, but she doesn't. Laura tries not to acknowledge her disappointment, but she can still feel it in the bottom of her stomach. She doesn't think she's ever wanted to see the other girl as much as she does right now. She feels like she has so many questions she wants to ask her. First on her list is how it is that she remembers such a small piece of information as her mother's perfume when Laura didn't even tell it to her specifically. She wants to know how Carmilla knew she'd need it. She wants to know how Carmilla chose the music. She wants to know when Carmilla decided she'd do all this. She wants to know why Carmilla did it at all. But she can't ask any of those questions, because Carmilla doesn't show up and when the sun sets and it's well after dinner time, Laura knows her roommate won't be there till morning.

 

She falls asleep at some point, the soft music still playing in the background, the candle still burning and her cocoa long gone.

 

Her sleep is deprived of nightmares that night, but it's filled with a certain dark haired brunette.

 

When Laura wakes up, there's no longer any music playing, but the room isn't silent either. She opens her eyes slowly and sure enough, Carmilla is walking around carefully, her steps light and fluid. Laura tries to ignore the way her heart jumps in her throat, but it's no use. She still has so many questions for the brunette, but suddenly nothing's coming out of her mouth. She stares at Carmilla's back in complete silence. She doesn't even avert her eyes when girl takes off her t-shirt to replace it with another, supposedly clean, one. She feels like she's burning holes in her roommate's body and just as she's thinking that Carmilla's bound to _feel_ her staring, the girl turns around.

 

She looks mildly surprised to see Laura awake, but the faint sentiment that flashed across her features for a second disappears as quickly as it appeared.

 

"Hey," she says, her voice as deep and sultry as ever. "Did I wake you?"

 

Laura shakes her head and then pushes herself up slightly onto her elbow. Carmilla continues to look at her and when the smaller girl doesn't say anything, one of her eyebrow rises high.

 

"You okay cutie? You seem mighty serious," Carmilla teases.

 

But there's no bite to her words. Her voice is nothing but softness. Laura gulps slowly, because she's not sure she can deal with this, with a Carmilla that's _tender_.

 

When she still doesn't reply, Carmilla's eyebrows furrow and Laura can _swear_ she sees worry cross the other girl's feature.

 

She seems to hesitate for a moment or two, but when Laura continues to stare at her in silence, the dark haired girl crosses the room and comes to sit down carefully next to her.

 

"What is it creampuff?" Carmilla whispers.

 

This time her voice is laced with affection and care and Laura wants to cry all over again. She wants to cry because last night the smell of lavender made her feel so genuinely cared for and loved, but this morning, the smell has gone, while the feeling remains.

 

"Did you have another nightmare?" Carmilla asks, cutting through the small girl's thoughts.

 

Then, she lifts a hand and places it carefully on her roommate's forehead. Her hand is cool and soft and the smaller girl can't help it when her eyes close and a heavy breath falls from her lips.

 

Laura might not know everything, but she does know why the feeling lingers in her heart or more accurately what _makes_ it linger. It's Carmilla.

 

She opens her eyes and she's almost shocked by the sight of the other girl's worried and confuse frown. Laura's heart swells and her throat squeezes. She still can't talk, but she reaches for Carmilla's hand on her forehead and holds it in hers on the bed instead.

 

Carmilla might be hundreds of years old, but the smaller girl swears she looks nervous then. And somehow, that nervousness is all Laura needs to find her voice, at least in parts.

 

"I... last night... the music..." she says.

 

It's entirely stupid and inadequate, but the dark haired girl seems reassured nonetheless.

 

"Why?" Laura asks.

 

She can't seem to ask all her questions, but she can ask this one. Carmilla tenses and smirks.

 

"You've been playing the same 8 songs for _days_ ," the girl replies. "As little as I care for this era's music in most cases, I wouldn't let you ruin Leonard Cohen for me," she jokes, adding an eye roll for good measures.

 

Laura doesn't reply and doesn't buy it.

 

"And... the lavender?" she pushes.

 

She fells Carmilla's hand twitch beneath hers and the girl's avert her eyes for a second or two.

 

"What about it?" she says nonchalantly.

 

Laura doesn't buy that either. Carmilla _knew_. Carmilla _remembered_. Laura is sure of it. She accepts the denial anyway. Her thumb brushes the side of the dark haired girl's hand though and it feels to her like it did it on its own. Laura's only even aware of it when her senses are filled with the softness of the other girl's skin against hers.

 

Carmilla doesn't move. She just stares back at the smaller girl and waits. And somehow, that inaction fills Laura's heart with a lot more than it should. Because this is what Carmilla always does, it seems. She's _there_ , but she isn't pushing. Like she doesn't really care whether or not Laura really appreciates her efforts.

 

The second she's thought that thought, something else fills the smaller girl's heart. Fear. Fear and worry that Carmilla might think that she _doesn't_ appreciate it all. Maybe that's this fear that pushes her to move next.

 

She leans forward achingly slowly and presses her lips gently against the other girl's. She closes her eyes and adds a bit of pressure and although she can feel Carmilla accept and take the kiss, there's no pressure back, no pressure for more.

 

Her hearts flutters at the contact though and Laura's lips linger longer than she'd have thought. It's in that moment that the smaller girl thinks that maybe it's fear that drove her forward, but maybe, _maybe_ , it's something else entirely.

 

After a few more seconds, Laura leans back and licks her bottom lip absentmindedly. When she opens her eyes, her heart stops for a second in her chest. Her heart stops because although Carmilla still hasn't moved, she's _different_.

 

There's a glint in her eyes, something _feral_. For the first time in what feels like forever, Laura can see that Carmilla is no ordinary girl. She can see that there _is_ something wild in her, something that wants to take and control. Laura can see the need flash in Carmilla's dark eyes. She can see the desire to overpower, the desire to own. There is no doubt in this moment that Carmilla _really_ isn't human. It's so obvious that she isn't that it's a bit shocking.

 

Yet, as ferocious as the sparkle in the girl's eyes is, she doesn't move. She stays still and staring and Laura wants to smile then.

 

Carmilla might not be human, but she's no monster.

 

"Thank you," Laura whispers, squeezing the other girl's hand.

 

Her words break whatever spell had fallen onto Carmilla and the feral want disappears in an instant. Carmilla smirks confidently and takes Laura's hand in hers.

 

"Don't think too much of it," she says before bringing the smaller girl's hand to her lips and kissing it gently.

 

Laura feels herself blush as Carmilla puts her hand back down and gets up chuckling. She bites her bottom lip to stop herself from chuckling along.

 

In retrospective, Laura's not sure what's more problematic; the fact that sometimes she forgets that Carmilla isn't human or the fact that sometimes she remembers and it doesn't seem to change anything.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
